Today I took myself out to lunch for fish and chips. Before leaving, I stopped in the ladies’ room. A blond woman in a pink tulle dress was at the mirror, washing her hands, fixing her hair. The normal.
I heard a woman who entered after me say, “Very pretty” to the young lady as I sat down to do my business.
When I came out of the stall she was still there. We shared the gigantic bathroom mirror, and I couldn’t help but think of the contrast between us.
Her: the stereotypical beauty. Blond, long hair, pink,
Me: shaved head, “Smash the Patriarchy” tank top, corduroy miniskirt, and the sandals I wore on my bike tour.
Maybe this snapshot in time just gives me the impression she’s different than me. That’s the funny thing about stereotypes. We use them to fit people into neat little boxes, when humans are:
Consciousness without identity…
Many things made of everything…
~Alla This by Ani Difranco~
When I first started this post, I was going to write about how I wasn’t … well … her. Shoving her into the little box of dainty little princess who needs saving.
The reality is we all contain more power than we can see from a casual glance. Some wrap it in pink and some shave their heads. Some hide it away for a long time, only to release it when they are finally ready. Some are ready earlier.
So fierce warrior princess, I take back my initial thoughts of you and replace them with expansiveness.
On a side note, I might wear that pink, tulle dress. But I’d probably wear combat boots instead of heels.